


The Witch’s Cauldron

by moonpeace (plumesvertes)



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Aveyond 1, Aveyond 2, Aveyond 3, Aveyond 4, Gen, Modern AU, Slice of Life, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumesvertes/pseuds/moonpeace
Summary: Ingrid opens a coffee shop.
Relationships: Ingrid/Boyle Wolfbane, Myst & Robin (Aveyond)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Grand Opening

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a challenge I’m making for myself. Ingrid opens her coffee shop on October 1st, I start this fic on October 1st. Every day something interesting happens in her cafe, and every day (more or less) I write a few hundred words about it. 
> 
> This fic exists because I thought about Ingrid owning a witchy/Halloween themed coffee shop, and then I commissioned [Maddie](https://twitter.com/lastlace_cafe) for [this stunning piece of art](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EhQ-drMWsAEMA-A?format=jpg&name=large). Please imagine this as you read the fic! I definitely did.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid and her new employees get ready for the first day of business at The Witch’s Cauldron.

Ingrid anticipated the autumn months all year, but now she wanted to curse her past self. It was cold, and she couldn’t help feeling like this was her punishment for not appreciating the warm weather more. So what if her aesthetic wasn’t compatible with summer? Ingrid didn’t spend enough time outside for it to matter anyway, especially not since she’d been pouring every spare minute into this business.

She fumbled around for the keys in her purse. It’s been one minute since she left the car and now her fingers can’t feel shit anymore. Today was off to a great start.

Once she was inside, Ingrid defrosted her fingers with a mug of hot coffee. She paced around the shop, adjusting napkin holders and lights and angling the leaves of the plants, before plopping down at the couch near the window. Her employees didn’t need to be here for another 20 minutes, but Ingrid had expected them to arrive early on their first day. Not that she could reasonably expect anyone referred by Jinx to be professional, but still.

Dawn gave way to pale autumn daylight. Ingrid finished her coffee, now awake enough to be annoyed. Boyle texted her a meme, which she didn’t bother opening. At 6:59, they arrived.

The boy‘s coat was so gigantic that his arms stuck out nearly perpendicular to his body. Between his scarf and his ear-flap hat, only his eyes and a freckly stripe of skin were visible. The girl was dressed in clothing that was concerningly unseasonable on a level usually reserved for frat boys wearing Bermuda shorts in the snow. 

They didn’t have the keys yet, so Ingrid opened the door to a slew of apologies and overlapping explanations.

“It’ll never happen again—“

“—couldn’t back out with the squirrel under the car—“

“—took a wrong turn—“

“It’s fine,” Ingrid interjected. “The customers will start coming at 7:30, so let’s just get started. What are your names again?”

“Robin.”

“Myst.”

“You got last names or what? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Which one of you wants to work the register?”

They looked at each other for a few moments, telepathically communicating in some kind of Robin-and-Myst language, before Robin volunteered. 

Ingrid went into the back room and grabbed each of their aprons and two witch hats. “Here are your uniforms.” She turned to Robin. “You know how to use a cash register, right?”

“Yep! I help out at my Nan’s store sometimes.” His grin was infectious, perfect for customer service. “She’s the one who gave me this amazing coat.” He flapped his arms like a penguin for emphasis.

“...You should probably take that off. The mittens too.” Ingrid handed Robin a stack of flyers. “These advertise all our promotional events for the month. Make sure you give them out to every customer.” 

Robin nodded, and Ingrid turned her attention to Myst. “Have you memorized the list of drinks my sister gave you?”

Myst began rattling off the drink recipes exactly as Ingrid has written them. It was a little off-putting, but that was exactly the kind of person Ingrid liked.

Maybe this wasn’t off to a bad start after all.


	2. Enter the College Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mel, Edward, and Stella meet a classmate at the coffee shop.

**_9:38AM_ **

_ Mel: what did u guys get on the midterm  _

_ Edward: I got a C _

_ Mel: shit and you actually studied too _

_ Mel: this professor is nuts _

_ Mel: why did you make me take this class _

_ Edward: You need to take it anyway, so I thought we might as well be in it together _

_ Edward: Don’t blame me for the fact that you failed, Mel _

_ Mel: I didnt fail _

_ Edward: What did you get? _

_ Mel: 60 _

_ Edward: Lol nice  _

_ Edward: But still _

_ Stella: I got an 83% _

_ Stella: The boy that sits next to me got an A. I talked to him, and he said he’d help me study.  _

_ Mel: can we get in on that _

_ Mel: whats his name _

_ Stella: His name is Ulf, and sure. I’ll make a new chat with all of us in it. _

_ Edward: Are you guys gonna study this week _

_ Stella: Yes! We were planning to meet at 5 today at the new coffee shop _

_ Edward: Is that the one on Wyrmwood? _

_ Stella: Yes. It’s called The Witch’s Cauldron _

_ Mel: that sounds lit actually _

_ Mel: were you gonna walk there or  _

_ Stella: I was planning on taking the bus. _

_ Edward: I’ll drive _

_ Edward: Is it ok if I swing by at 4:30? _

_ Stella: Sounds great! I’ll bring the textbook _

_ Edward: Make sure Mel isn’t asleep when I get there, haha _

_ Mel: dude that was literally ONE time _

  
  


Seven hours later, the members of the new  _ History Foursome but not that kind of foursom _ (title abbreviated due to the 45-character limit) convened. Mel ordered an espresso, which came in a charmingly tiny skull mug. Edward ordered three bagel melts and nothing to drink. Stella’s iced tea was served in a glass shaped like an Erlenmeyer flask, on which the barista had written her name in cursive with a purple expo marker. 

Ulf took a seat next to Stella when he arrived. After introductions were made all around, Ulf pulled a gigantic binder of notes out of his backpack.

“Damn, she’s thicc,” Mel whispered to Edward.

“What?” asked Ulf.

“Uh, never mind. Can I see the notes on 24th-century Arishta? I bombed that free response.”

They pored over notes and books for an hour or two. Then Ulf pulled out his laptop to show the others the online resources he used. Mel complimented his Alienware laptop, and that launched a discussion about video games. For the next hour, the class was forgotten entirely. When the shop closed, the History Foursome exited not just as a study group, but as a group of friends.

“I’ll see you all in class tomorrow,” Ulf said, turning to walk toward the bus stop. 

“Well, you probably won’t see me. I’ve got a program to finish writing.” Mel slumped, exhausted just thinking about it.

“Let’s go home so you can work on that while there’s still some caffeine in your system,” Stella said. Edward voiced his agreement and unlocked the car.

“I’ll see you some other time, though,” Mel added. Ulf smiled, a mixture of adorable and horrifying with those orcish teeth. 

Edward set his GPS to Mel and Stella’s apartment, grumbling about how he’d never figure out these roads in the dark. Mel used the opportunity to check her phone - and discover an email from Professor Ravenfoot about the “pop” quiz that was apparently happening tomorrow. Looks like she’d have to finish coding that program during class.

“There’s a quiz tomorrow,” Mel yawned, too tired to elaborate on the email or even complain about their professor. Instead, she settled for a simple “Fuck that guy” and rolled over in the backseat for a nap. 


	3. The Office (Aian TV series)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyle and John take a lunch break.

Boyle’s cubicle was full of many things. A framed 8-by-10 photo of himself. A mug shaped like a gargoyle. A jar of candy from last October. A pencil sharpener shaped like a tiny throne, which he cherished despite the fact that he only ever used mechanical pencils (that had all since walked away from his desk).

Unfortunately, Boyle’s cubicle was, at the moment, also full of Ingrid.

Boyle swiveled his chair around to face his intruder. “Ingrid, I’m trying to work. Please leave.”

“Bullshit. I saw Facebook open on your computer.”

“I’m a social media manager!”

“You were playing Candy Crush! Who even plays that anymore?” she sighed. “Can you do me a favor and bring some people to the cafe for lunch? I can see you don’t have anything better to do.”

Boyle didn’t have a rebuttal, and he was getting hungry anyway. But who to bring? John, for sure. If there was anyone who would be up for a spontaneous excursion to get out of work, it was John. Ava wouldn’t care enough to talk him out of going, but she wouldn’t stop her work and leave either. Phye? He struck Boyle as the kind of guy who preferred bars to coffee shops. Nicolas would say no on principle.

“Alright, I’ll bring John. Happy?”

She didn’t dignify that with a response.

“...And I’ll ask everyone here if they want me to bring something back for them,” he added.

Ingrid deemed this a worthy effort and left the cubicle.

Boyle made the rounds and asked everyone for their order. The biggest sandwich they had and an iced peach tea for Phye, a cappuccino for Ava, and “just get me anything fall flavored” for Nicolas.

John jumped at the opportunity to abscond from work (and drive them there). He seemed to actually like the shop, wandering around and nodding approvingly while Boyle waited in line. The place actually matched what Boyle had seen of Ingrid’s sketches. He’d been the voice of doom about this whole project ever since she’d come up with it in the middle of the night and woken him up to ramble about it. But somehow, Ingrid had managed to pull it off. Boyle was...proud of her, not that he’d admit it to her face.

A freckly kid took his order. “What can I do you for?”

“I’ll have the Gingernut Frappe - that’s gingerbread and peanut butter flavored, right?”

“Yup!”

“One of those, the biggest sandwich you have—“

“All of our sandwiches are the same size.”

“Just pick whichever one you think is the most filling, I don’t care. Um, one large peach tea, iced, a cappuccino, and I guess a medium pumpkin spice latte.”

“That’ll be...” the cashier punched some buttons. “Twenty-nine dollars and forty-two cents.”

It dawned on Boyle that everyone probably assumed he’d pay for their orders. “I’m the owner’s boyfriend. Can I get a discount?”

“Ingrid told me that if a guy with a black beard asked for a discount, I should charge him 15 percent more.”

“No! Just kidding! I’ll pay the regular price.” He forked over his credit card, which thankfully didn’t decline. John ordered a muffin, and they were on their way.

When they returned, Ingrid was once again in his cubicle.

“You’re finally back. I have a reward for you,” Ingrid said.

“Is that code for ‘let’s hide in the maintenance closet and make out like teenagers’?”

“No, I was going to say that I finished your stupid Candy Crush level. Also, I gave everyone in the office including you a punch card. After seven purchases, you get a free croissant,” she explained. “But yeah, let’s do what you said.”


End file.
